An Eternal Tale
by AnnaChase
Summary: A story about my version of Darla's life before she became a vampire. R&R please! Chapter 5 up now, how Abi became Darla. Sorta! Completed! :D
1. No more hope

**An Eternal Tale **

**Summary: **This is a story about Darla's human life before she became a vampire.  
**Disclaimer: **Joss Whedon owns Darla, I own John, Rebecca, Mary, etc. etc. Practically everyone who isn't Darla ;).

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**1. No More Hope**

**1585, Virginia Colony**

In the middle of the night, a young woman is laying on a bed. She's giving birth to a child. Outside there is a bad thunderstorm brewing, the weather fits the woman's mood perfectly. She's angry and hurt, because she's already been in labor since the last 36 hours.. and it's exhausting her. The woman's husband, John, was still sitting by her and holding her hand. He's looking very worried. They had to do it all alone, because the weather caused complete isolation from any possible help. He knew what to do, because they already had 8 children, but still, the thought of being completely alone was frightening. What if something went wrong? 'John..', his wife Rebecca said softly. He put a new cold cloth on her forehead. 'Yes?', he asked. 'I can't hold on much longer John... I'm going to—'. 'No.. don't say that! ', he said panicky. 'You can do it Becky.. Try.. One more time.. For me?', he desperately asked, almost begging. He would do anything to safe his wife.. and his baby, of course. But it was Rebecca who had to do it. He couldn't deliver this baby for her. Fortunately, she nodded, and gave one last push.. With that one using her last breath and passing her life on to her child..  
Her baby.  
Her girl.  
Rebecca died.

John had been incredibly sad, and confused.. and panicked. It was 2 days ago now. Two awful, long days. He now had 9 children to take care of.. Including a newborn baby, and he also had to work.  
They had already been nearly broke when they had 8 children, a 9th one, a baby, who needed milk, clothes, medications, and other routine things didn't help much with that. Shortly said, there was just no money for this baby.  
John was talking to his eldest daughter, Mary. She had recently turned 15.  
'Daddy... There must be a way to keep her..', her eyes were filled with tears. She had looked forward to this new baby, and now her dad was suggesting to give it to someone else.  
Simply abandon it.  
'If I knew one way.. only one single way, Mary, then I would tell you. Then I would do anything to make us keep this child. But there isn't. If we let her stay with us she'll definitely die. We can give her a better life! A good life, in a rich family maybe.', he tried to make her understand, show her the other side of the what seemed so cruel propose.  
Mary staid silent for quite a long while. 'When are you going to.. do it?', she asked eventually, tears in her eyes. She knew her father was right. This was the best for both. They already had so little food, and money. There was no way they could keep this baby.  
'As soon as possible.. Before we get too.. attached.', John said, sadly, and Mary nodded. 'Tonight. But.. can I please say goodbye to her, daddy? Can I do that?'.  
He nodded. 'Of course you can..'. He got up and paced around the room. 'I know where to take her. There's a rich family. A husband and a wife. The Warners, I believe. They recently moved in that house close to the vicar. I heard the woman is infertile, so we would help them by doing this. The baby would be wanted.', he said, fighting against the tears welling up in his eyes. His daughter nodded and went into the small room in which the little ones were asleep. Including the baby. She picked her up and carried the little girl back into the main room, where her father was still pacing.  
'We haven't even.. given her a name yet.', Mary said, ignoring the obvious pain sounding through in her shaky voice. John looked up at his two girls, they were both so beautiful. The baby seemed to have the same beautiful, golden hair. Just like her older sister and her mother. The least thing they could do was give her a name.. That would be the only thing they indeed could give her. And then he smiled. 'You name her, Mary. With your great sense of style I'm sure you can think of something nice.. Something that will stay with her.. Something from us.'.  
Mary nodded. 'Okay, daddy.', she said, and looked down at her little sister who was contently asleep, not knowing anything about what was soon going to happen to her. She had no idea that in several minutes she would leave her real family. The family that loved her the most. 'Let's call her 'Hope' ', Mary said, smiling slightly, happy that she found a name that fitted this perfect little creature. She would give that other family new hope, and she also hoped that the name would give the baby strength.. to never give up. Yes, this was a perfect name. John agreed with that. 'It's a lovely name. Now say goodbye.. I want to do it before the sun comes up.'.  
Mary gave a nod and softly hugged the baby, one last time taking in the sweet baby smell, watching the pretty little hairs on her head.. The tiny little nose, the content expression on the still so very innocent face..  
This was her sister, and no one could take this memory away from her.  
Ever.  
With that thought, she handed Hope back to her father. They shared a look which showed despair, but also the knowledge of them doing the right thing. For all of them.  
'I will be back soon', John said, and disappeared out of the wooden little house the 10, now only 9 of them, were living in. Mary sighed and sat down on the chair by the table.  
'Make something of your life, little Hope.. I know you have it in you. ', she whispered to the memory of her baby sister.

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Please review and let me know what you thought of it and if you want me to continue. Thanks!

xx-


	2. A peasant's gift

**2.** **A peasant's gift**

John walked down the empty, dark street, with Hope in his arms. She was surprisingly silent, as if she knew what was going to happen to her. She wasn't asleep, but she was kept warm by her father's jacket , and the blanket around her. When they arrived at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Warner, John hesitated for a moment. Since when did he sink this low? Giving his own child away! But he knew he had to..

There was no choice.

He would give Hope a much better life.

A rich life.

She would get everything she ever dreamed of in this family.

She deserved this.

He held that thought while he walked over to the door of the big house, and placed the basket with his daughter in front of it. He kissed her on the head once more, and then knocked on the door loudly. He gave Hope one last look.. and ran off.

The pain in his heart worse then any he had ever known.

Worse then what he felt about Rebecca.

Much worse.

From the corner of his eye he saw the door being opened, and a woman stepped out. Probably the maid. She would bring his daughter into that better life, he thought.. And that was the last time he saw his girl.

Sarah, the maid, found the baby on the doorstep. She was confused, and didn't know what to do with it. But in this cold, she couldn't just let it lay there... So, she picked the baby and the basket up and brought it to the saloon. Mr. and Mrs. Warner were seated there, talking about a new play in the theatre.

'Sir, madam, ', Sarah said, not sure if what she did was the right thing. She only worked here for 2 weeks, and didn't want to be fired!

Mrs. Warner looked up, she was always very nice, and the look in her eyes comforted Sarah a little. 'What is it, Sarah? What have you got there?', she asked her in a friendly manner.

'It's.. I found it on the doorstep, ma'am. It's a.. it's a baby.', she said, hearing how very stupid that sounded, but what else could she say? It was a baby after all.

'A what? ', Mr. Warner asked, less friendly than his wife.

Mrs. Warner, Louisa, walked over. 'O George! It is a baby!', she exclaimed surprised, and lifted the baby from her basket. 'Look at that! It's God's gift to us! He heard our prayers, George!'.

Mr. Warner, or George, walked over to his wife and this strange, apparently abandoned baby. 'It's not God's gift, Louisa. That's a peasant's gift. A poor peasant who wasn't able to work a little harder to feed another mouth. That's what it is. They're too lazy. So they put it on another man's doorstep.', he shook his head. 'It's a shame, that's what it is. A shame'.

As if Hope heard the man's tough words, she started to cry, and Louise rocked her gently. 'Shh, little one. You're safe now. ', she smiled. 'You have a new mommy'. Her husband didn't seem to agree with that though...

'Don't be ridiculous. We're not keeping a peasant's baby!'. Louisa gave him a look. 'Yes we are. And you don't know if it's a peasant baby. There may be something else! And besides, she's a gift from God. He made someone put this baby on our doorstep. And we'll do as He wants us to with it, George. We'll take care of her.'.

George sighed, once his wife had something in her mind.. not an army could bring her off that idea anymore.

'How do you know it's a she?', he asked her, observing the baby in her arms.

'You can see that! This is definitely a she', she replied and put the baby in her other arm, so she could take a look at the basket. 'There is a note! '.

'A note?', George frowned. 'What does it say?'.

Louisa picked up the note and read out loud;

'Please take care of our sweet baby girl Hope.', she smiled. 'Hope. They're calling her Hope. That's a lovely name, isn't it darling?'.

'No it's not. If we keep her.. we give her another name. A name that fits our place in the society, a 'normal' name.', he decided.

Louisa sighed again, not really caring, because she was already happy enough with the fact he would let them keep this baby. She had no idea how much the name had meant to Hope's family.. She looked down at her 'daughter', and smiled again. 'Abigail. We'll call her Abigail'.


	3. One more time

**3. One more time**

**1571, Virginia Colony**

'Mother', Abigail said, looking at Louisa, the woman she had always considered as her mother, although her father George never let an occasion pass by to remind her that she wasn't their real daughter. Unfortunately George died 5 weeks ago, and since then Abigail's mother's health went backwards. Which was too bad, cause she wasn't that old yet. Not even 50 summers she reached.

'What is it, dear?', Louisa replied, looking up at Abigail.

'You look pale, mother. Can I do something for you?', the 16 year old girl asked, a worried expression on her pretty face.

'There's nothing you can do, my sweet girl. But thanks for your concern. '.

Abigail sighed. 'Mother.. I am very concerned about your health.'

. 'And you should be.', Louisa replied. 'Abigail, darling.. Come here.', she sat up a little more on the couch she was laying on, making room for Abigail to come and sit next to her.

She complied. 'What is it, mother?', she asked with a mixture of worried and curious feelings.

'My sweet girl.. I don't like what I have to say to you, but I will.'.

Abigail's frown deepened, she became silent and just stared at her mother.

'I do not have long to live anymore, my dear. So the doctor told me.', she paused, to let this sink in to the girl.

Abigail's eyes filled with tears. 'No! It has to be a mistake! Please mother! Tell me it's a mistake! A terrible mistake.', tears ran down her cheeks now. 'The doctor has to be wrong!', she sobbed.

Louisa sighed. 'Abigail, darling, behave yourself. ', she patted her daughter's back. 'You don't know what else I have to say.', she continued.

Abigail stared at her questioningly. 'What else do you have to say, mother? ', she asked, not really wanting to hear it, but she was raised well and politely, so she knew she couldn't just walk away

. 'I do not want you to stick around during my further illness and watch me die.', her mother answered.

The girl's eyes widened. 'You're sending me away! No, mother! I want to stay with you! Please don't make me do this!', she cried desperately.

'I contacted a police officer. His name is Adam Johnson, and he is a good friend of mine. He managed to find your real family, and he contacted them. They are willing to take you in again.', Louisa continued merciless. 'You're leaving as soon as possible. This after noon would be good. I'm sorry Abigail, I truly am. But I don't want to do this to you. I hope you understand.', she said a little softer.

Abigail was still crying, she couldn't understand this was happening to her. 'Mother please...', she tried one more time, but she knew once Louisa had something in her mind, no one could put her thoughts of the idea. '

Go and pack your bags, my dear. Mr. Johnson will pick you up 30 minutes from now.', her mother replied, trying not to let the pain and the fear for her little girl sound through in her voice. Abigail nodded and went upstairs to her large room.. This was the last time she saw it. Would she ever return to this room? Would she ever sleep in this bed again? Would she ever see this house? One more time? Her mother? She felt the tears come up again and quickly swallowed them. No crying, she demanded herself. You have to be strong.. Crying is for the weak, she decided on that day. And for the rest of her long life, she kept that her motto.

25 minutes later, Abigail looked down at her 2 suitcases. Her whole life was in that.

Her whole life..

Without further hesitation, she picked them up and headed down the large stairs.

'Mother?', she asked and entered the living-room, leaving the two suitcases be in the hallway. 'I'm ready, mother.', she said, ignoring the tears and the knot in her stomach while she walked further into the room and saw her mother, more thin and fragile then ever, sitting in the pillows on the couch.. She seemed to devour in them, and yet she looked powerful. Abigail wished that one day she could look like that. That no matter what she looked like on the outside, that she could still express power. She found it shining like bright gold.. Power..

'Have you finished packing?', Louisa asked her, and Abigail nodded. 'Yes mother. I only took the most important things', she said.

'That's good, darling. Now come here.', her mother patted on the empty spot on the couch next to her. 'Come sit with me.',.

For one last time.. she thought, but didn't say that. She didn't want her daughter to see her inner weakness as well. She already had enough trouble by seeing her weakness on the outside. She wanted her to remember her as a strong person. Someone she wanted to look like. And someone who she 'would' look like.

Abigail sat down next to her, unsure what to do.

'Be the good girl I always taught you to be. ', Louisa said, trying to ignore the thought inside of her that was screaming that this was the last time she saw this girl.. Her daughter.

'Be strong, no matter what happens to you. And remember, tears are a weakness. ', she added.

Abigail nodded, and smiled. Fighting against the tears she was never allowed to cry. 'I love you mother', she said.

'And I love you too dear.', Louisa said. She held out her hand, and Abigail came closer. Giving her a hug. Taking in the sweet smell her mother always carried, even though she was very sick.

'Take care.', she whispered, before she walked out, took her suitcases, and entered the carriage which was waiting for her outside the house. She took place and through the window glanced one more time at the house she grew up in.

One more time..


	4. Unfamiliar blood ties

**4. Unfamiliar blood ties**

It turned out that Abigail's family had moved several times after her birth. After a journey that seemed to last days, but only lasted 2 hours, tops, the carriage stopped in front of a little wooden house. In her dreams Abigail had pictured this moment so often.. Always there had been a big house, like her parent's. But not only the house mattered, also always, her parents had ran out to embrace her happily.

Her birthparents.

Now there was just silence... and no sign of life.

Confused and somewhat scared, Abigail glanced at Mr. Johnson, who seemed bored and eager to start doing more interesting things instead of bringing a little girl home.

'Here we are. Time to go.', he said.

Slowly, Abigail took her suitcases, and stepped out of the carriage. Before she could thank the man for bringing her home, he was gone.

She was all alone now.

Her heart beating fast, she walked over to the door, and knocked.

When a woman with blond hair, about 30 years old, opened with a baby on her arm, Abigail looked for a sign of familiarity.

'Any' sign, that would show this woman was family.

But there was nothing.

'Yes?', the woman said, looking up at her up and down.

'My name is Abigail.. I.. I .. was brought here. M-mister Johnson said you were my real family.. I was adopted as a baby.', Abigail explained, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, but she fought against them.

Tears were a sign of weakness.

For a moment, the look on the woman's face seemed to soften a bit.

'Hope.'.

Abigail frowned. Hope? Was that a name? 'No.. Abigail.', she said softly, yet firmly.

Without any more words, the woman let her into the house.

It was even smaller on the inside, and dirty too. It wouldn't surprise Abigail if there were rats.

'So you're her... the lost sister.'.

The lost sister... was this woman her sister, Abigail wondered. She'd always wanted a sister, but she never imagined one like.. this.

'Yes, ma'am. I'm her..', Abigail replied, eager to show that she had some very good manners.

'Ma'am? My name is Mary. I'm your sister. Great, another mouth to feed.'. The softened look on Mary's face disappeared again.

Then her eye caught Abigail's suitcases. 'What's in there?'.

'M-my possessions, Ma'—Mary.'.

'Possessions? Let's see.', Mary said, roughly handing the 6- month old baby to Abigail, who wasn't sure what to do with it. She'd never held a baby before, specially not a crying one.

Mary put one of the two suitcases on the table and opened it. Her eyes widened at the sight of the pretty clothes, made of the finest fabrics, she'd always only dreamed of those. And even now they were prettier than in her dreams. Her own clothes were just plain dresses, sewn in a hurry, in a boring brown or green color. 'So they really are rich..', she mumbled.

'I beg your pardon?', Abigail said, not sure if she heard it right.

Mary looked up at her and took the baby from the blond little girl.

'There's no time, or space here to be beautiful. We're going to have to sell them.'.

Abigail's bottom lip trembled. 'W-what?'. She couldn't do that! Selling the dresses! They were hers! The only thing she had left from the life with the people she loved.

'Yea, princess. Sell them. Unless you'd rather starve?'.

Abi shook her head in terror. She'd never thought returning home would be so.. loveless.

'Excuse me.. My.. my parents, where are they?'. She was wondering if her parents were like this too, then maybe she'd rather run off and go home. Her mother wouldn't turn her down if she would know she was unhappy here, right?

'Your parents? Mother died giving birth to you and father died last year. He probably drank himself to death.', was Mary's careless reply. She did care though, but years of unhappiness had turned her bitter.

She led the scared girl to a chair and put her down. 'Let me tell you something about this family. Yes?'.

Abigail nodded, trying to overcome the big shock of being an orphan.

'Besides me you have 7 brothers and sisters. 5 of those, Matthew, David, William, Sarah and Samantha are married. Thank God they left the house, the less the better. Elizabeth and Becky, almost 18 and 20, are still at home. They're out selling eggs and milk right now. I was married too, I have two children. Daniel, 3, and Hannah. ', she pointed at the baby. 'She's six months. My husband Jacob died last year in a forest fire. He's probably better off than in this hell.'.

Abigail was shocked by the way her sister talked about her diseased husband. She was also shocked to find she had so many brothers and sisters.

'In case you hadn't noticed,', Mary continued mercilessly. 'We're poor. We all work to live here, and don't expect you'll be able to continue you're status of 'princess' here. You'll have to work too.'.

'Yes, Mary.', Abigail replied. She didn't mind working, she wanted to do something. She'd never known what it was like to be poor, but she was sure about to find out.


	5. History

**  
5. History**

Abigail soon learnt what it was like to work. It hurt, badly. Not as bad in the beginning, though. She got used to it. What Abi didn't understand, though, was why her other two sisters who were still at home didn't have to do this job. They could just sell some scarce food supplies. She'd asked Mary once. The reply she got pretty much pointed out that Elizabeth and Becky were too ugly to do it. And too stupid, she had added.

'But you don't need brains to be a prostitute. '. Abi never, ever used the word whore. Even though she lived with poor peasants now, she would always keep her style .It was one of the most important things her mother, or her adoptive mother, had taught her. It made her who she was.

'Of course you do. It takes brains to figure out how much a guy should pay you. If you ask too much with certain guys, you get a reputation. We can't have that, now can we?'.

'No Mary.', Abigail answered. 'We can't have that.'.

'You, have those brains. You may be naive and still a spoilt brat, but you're not stupid.', Mary said, and left her behind to take care of the little ones.

That night before going off to work, Abi stared at her reflection in the mirror. Mary thought she was smart. And pretty too, obviously. She let her do the 'special' work. She looked at her honey blond curls and smiled at herself. From that moment on she decided that life maybe wasn't so bad after all. This job could earn her and the family a lot of money. Maybe then, they would finally accept her as their sister. Maybe.

Abigail didn't have much of a childhood. From the age of sixteen, she spent all her nights, and sometimes days too, in bed with unfamiliar, sometimes dangerous guys. It didn't matter, though. Her brothers and sisters weren't as poor anymore, and Abi could wear pretty dresses again. That was how things went, she bought a dress, she wore it, and a guy ripped it off. Not that she enjoyed it, though. She just took life the way it was. She stopped believing in God a long time ago, he had never done anything for her. She would just have to help herself. So, she did. As much as possible. Until one day, she felt really ill and couldn't bring herself to get up and get ready for a rough night.

'What's wrong?', Mary asked her, entering the room to see what took her sister so long.

'I'm not well..', Abigail replied. 'I think I have a fever.. and I can't get up.'.

'Great. Like we don't have enough issues yet. I'll go and get the doctor.'. Mary said andspeeded off to get Dr. Greene, who lived next door.

He immediately followed her into Abigail's room and started to examine her. The diagnosis was soon made, with not any kind of doubt.

'Syphilis.'.

The rest is history.

Literally.

_- The End-_


End file.
